It's Too Sentimental
by twistedwriter101
Summary: One page is all it takes to truly break a person. Drabbles, 500 words or less.
1. Purple

**Disclaimer: They're not mine, or else we'd have another MK game....**

**Quite random one-shot, if I may say so myself.**

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I don't know why purple was chosen for me.

Maybe it was because Kitana had blue, and purple could not be made without blue. I mean, I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for her DNA.

The Tarkatan in me did not overtake the human emotions, though.

The first time I cried was when I learned that Baraka cheated on me. He _was_ rather drunk, but it took forty-two days, eleven hours, fifty-two minutes, and twenty-two seconds for me to say, "It's okay." The second time I shed tears was when Kitana refused to stay by my side when I lay sick in bed, too ill to even move. Her reasoning? I was expendable, of course!

_"Why do you not pass me my water? I've been here, parched, for days-"_

_"I don't care if my clone dies."_

I stopped weeping after that.

The third time I cried, however, was from laughter. This was about twenty minutes ago. Ermac, Rain, Reptile, Baraka, and myself were being useless, lounging about the den. After one of Rain's tear worthy jokes (hence the mirth), my dear Baraka questioned my decision to go pink.

_"Why, love, do you let pink adorn your body?"_

_"If I said that purple was too sentimental, would you leave me be?"_

It's true. Violet reminded me of when Kitana was with me. It reminded me of when she killed me. It reminded me of the horrid time I spent serving Shinnok.

It reminded me of the failure I am. The perfect clone, albeit with one defect.

I don't know why I am writing in you. You're nothing but a piece of parchment, forever riddled with my weak feelings.

Yet, you are my relief. My outlet when Baraka leaves his side of the bed bare, like tonight.

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Mileena rolled over, fingers meeting nothing but air. A pain shot through her skull, and, now more then ever, she wanted someone to hold her. To comfort her.

When a pair of strong arms would embrace her, she would snuggle into their warmth. They weren't there currently.

A hot liquid slowly seeps out of her eyes as she realises those arms are probably around another woman.

Her life was but a lie, and nothing would ever change.

Those forty-two days, eleven hours, fifty-two minutes, and twenty-two seconds now seem like a never ending spiral of lost hope, the hope to be truly accepted.

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**I felt really teary from listening to Patti LuPone's "Don't Cry For Me, Argentina" and this is what my mind produced. Seriously, go read about Evita, well more like Eva Peron, and you'll really understand the song.**


	2. Red

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.**

**I wrote this in study hall, and what a fun experience it was! Ha. **

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I've always adored red.

For as long as I know, the deep crimson was constant. Perhaps the only part of me that was untouched was my stark white skin, ivory shining through silk.

Right now, my choppy auburn hair is matted, dirt laced in. I am laying on this hard ground. I can feel a faint, but ever present, saturation. The earth cannot possibly absorb the carnage I have taken part in.

The carnage is what I currently lay in.

Dead, blank eyes stare at me. My fellows have been slain. Right now, a layer of red covers me and my burgundy clothes. A deep gash is on my stomach and I am ever so reminded of the pain.

The sharp serrated edge of my dagger gleams at me. Tempted as I am, I know that I must get up...to survive.

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Kira slowly twitched. A stream of fresh blood ran over the dried. Maroon, laced with bright cherry.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

Red never fades away.


	3. Blue

**A bit shorter, but it's a drabble. :D **

**"Epiphany" from Sweeney Todd inspired this one!**

* * *

If I had a choice, I'd die on a periwinkle bed, infused with navy.

Navy's a beautiful colour.

Blue is soothing, calming.

I let myself wear such blue. Despite the hostility I seem to encounter with it, I persist in choosing it. My eyes, perfect brown, should clash with it. They do not.

I clash in purple.

Purple is the royal colour. I should wear it every moment of my life. But I can't. It makes loyalty shine in my eyes, which in turn seem deceptive.

Mileena wears purple.

The rich violet adorns the epitome of all evil. She has no feelings, a hard and icy indifference to the world. It sickens and frightens me all at once. People could never tell a single uniqueness between us.

Is uniqueness even a word, diary?

I could tell though. Through training and sorcery, she became odd. A tweak in her system possibly. Colours never lie. When she impersonated me, no one saw anything. Not even one little suspicion...

Blue is forever mine. 'Tis the hue of my heart.

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Kitana walks, head high, and greets the swarm of people.

Blue calms outwardly, but the mind will be and eternal mess.


	4. White

**Disclaimer: Not mine. At all.**

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White is a burden.

For me, it is purity condensed. I yearn for it, I am so close! But one sin, one wraith, stands in my way.

However.....White can also be death, mourning. For a funeral, for battle.

I am both.

I long to be free. I grow weary of the demonic essence in me. It lurks inside me, but I am slowly eradicating it. I imagine that a wisp is released from me after every death, a black tendril removing itself from the sinews of a pure heart.

Oh, but I have sinned many than more. I deserve to be eternally damned, condemned to the fiery depths of Hell. But escape, escape I will. I will, or I shall die trying.

I have escaped before. From my sisters, whom I am ashamed of. From the Brotherhood of Shadow, whom is ashamed of me. From Quan Chi, whom is one of nonchalance. He doesn't care for me, amazing warrior or not.

To be free of this realm completely would be heavenly. My Kriss aides me, but _he_ will only be deafeated my true skill, true want. _He_, whom most cower from.

Noob Saibot.

And he will be mine.

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And, as the two tire, neither gives in. A flash of bright light illuminates the whole area as a dark body keels over it.

The handle of the Kriss lay embedded in Saibot's stomach.

As Ashrah shields her eyes with her arm, blinded, a cloudy essence emerges from her breast. Feeling as if she needed to leave, the warrior reached for her Kriss. Her fingers brush the butt of the sword, but slip away as her body is pulled through the portal to paradise.

And, as she said to the old, withering man in front of her to find her sword, she knows she is condemning him.

It is apparent that her heart blends into a creamy nothing, for white means emptiness, too.

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**I used Les Miserables' "Javert's Suicide" for this particular piece.**


	5. Yellow

**Disclaimer: Not moi's. **

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Yellow.

Buttercups and honey and golden nuggets.

Please!

If I'm a weak little pansy of a buttercup, Onaga is a teddy bear, stuffed with the comfiest cotton. I know I'm tough. I know I'm a bitch.

I betray to get my way, I steal to survive, I thrive on other's suffering. Some would call me a bottom feeder, a parasite, a lousy, good-for-nothing whore, a loner, a lost soul...

I do not deny these names. I live with them.

And as I stood over Sindel, the proud queen locked away in her own palace, I cannot help but feel a twinge of remorse. My only reprieve, perhaps, came in the form of an old man.

We battled. I let up.

Dare I say it? I was almost glad that I let Shujinko beat me. It made dealing with my failure of a life so much easier.

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She sighed and got up. The bulky arm of a certain Tarkatan warrior drooped off the bed. As she dressed, he arose.

"You're pathetic, trying to steal the princess's man."

She smirked. "I already have!"

And with uncanny speed, a blade struck through her abdomen. The Edenian traitor's last sight was her "affair partner" melting into the familiar face of Shang Tsung.

"Mileena and Baraka will be so happy now that you cannot spread any more lies. Won't they, Tanya?"

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Reviews are love.


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